The Weight of the World
by PurpleLight
Summary: Lief is starting to find that some responsibilities weigh more heavily than others. Slight mentions of death, alcohol abuse.
1. This Child King

Disclaimer: I am not Emliy Rodda- you can tell by the abbreviations! If you do not understand what I am saying, you obviously haven't read the books closely enough. Read them again.

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Lief stalked into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. He leant against the frame, trying to regain a grip on his temper. He stared around the room: it was empty. He frowned. There was usually at least one person in the kitchen, getting the meals ready; there were a lot of people to cook for at the moment… Lief threw the thought away.

Well, good: he wanted to be alone at the moment.

Actually, the kitchen wasn't completely empty. True, it was empty of all living, but there were plenty of objects lying around. On the thick wooden tabletop was a cup: a very small, wooden cup. It sat alone on the empty table, and in front of it stood a stool. Lief could just imagine a sad person sitting alone in the kitchen, sloshing the liquid down their throat.

Lief approached it slowly, examining it. He picked it up carelessly, letting a little slosh over the side. He glared at the small puddle on the floor. He hadn't realised it was so full.

What was it, anyway? Lief bent down and sniffed cautiously. He knew the smell, somehow. What was it from? He sipped it, and coughed as it burned its way down his throat. _What is this?_ He thought, retching, _poison?_ He placed his hand reflexively on the emerald. _No, more like alcohol._

_What a great move, King of Del_, he thought to himself, _walk into a spookily empty kitchen, see a cup on the table. Take a swig. Smooth. Your behaviour is like that of a two year old's._

He grimaced and, not thinking, took another swallow. He coughed again and looked at the object cradled in his hand. He was starting to feel better. Lief had never been drunk before, but he was beginning to feel like it might be worth a try.

Well, it hadn't killed him yet. '_What didn't kill him…_' Lief discarded the thought, slumping down onto the stool; watching the milky liquid as he swirled it around the cup. He raised it to his lips again, and shuddered as it scorched through his mouth.

_Great, now the king is a veritable drunk_. You_ are the sad person you thought of before_. _There are people out there who rely on you to be an idol for their children_. Lief pulled a face, shoving away that thought. For now, he could forget about all that. Forget about any 'responsibilities'. For Adin's sake, he was only a child himself. Sometimes, he wondered if anyone ever took that into account.

Standing up, he scoured the room for more of the alcohol. He crouched down and peered into the cupboard. He was tempted to call for a cook, but then they would treat him like… like the King. He couldn't be the King now. He just wanted to be… someone without those sorts of responsibilities. He sighed, standing up, and cursed as he hit his head.

He lost his balance, falling backwards onto his backside with an 'ooof'. He put his head into his hands, his elbows on his knees. For a lovely moment, he considered never getting back up. But that was his job: to get back onto his feet, to succeed, to defeat fear, pain and despair. His face scrunched as tears needled his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around his knees.

Find the alcohol. The burn would dull the pain. He knew; he had heard the some of the guards talking about it after they had been in the Arena, and they wanted to forget. He crawled along, until he pulled himself to his feet using the stool. He continued around the room, rummaging in the cupboards. His fingers closed on a likely vessel. He pulled it out, and sure enough, he could slosh some more of the liquid in the cup.

He tossed it down his throat, and again, and again. It didn't hurt so much now; neither the liquid nor his thoughts.

Soon, the world retreated to a slow moving, fuzzy window. It was all rather distant. He reclaimed the stool, letting his head drop. His hair flopped around his face. He pushed it back, _Nothing works for me_, he thought_, I'm a failure of a king. I can't do anything. I'm useless._ Another idea hit him, one that smashed into his stomach, and made him double over in pain_, Jasmine could never love me_._ Why would she? She doesn't need anyone. She will leave, and never look back. I will be left here. Alone. Alone…_ he sloshed more into his cup. It seemed to be having the same effect as water now. It didn't burn at all. His limbs were sort of slow, however. He regarded them curiously, trying to focus while his eyes slid. He couldn't concentrate. Why was he sad? Oh yes, Jasmine. Who could love a drunk? His head fell onto the table; his arms followed, losing their strength as he sobbed.

* * *

"Please, come quickly! Help us! Help him!"

Jasmine spun around to stare at the messenger before her. He was the youngest of Lief's guards, and the swiftest. Jasmine's heart stopped. Hadn't they survived enough? What was the new devilry that the Shadow Lord was to throw at them?

"What has happened?" she asked, grabbing his shoulders to steady him.

"Not enough time. Follow me, and I'll try to explain."

Jasmine nodded, and ran behind him, "So what is happening?"

He puffed out the story. Lief had been in the markets, checking the architecture of the buildings. There was one that was due to be knocked down, after being neglected for so long by the Shadow Lord. Lief had gone to inspect it, "No!" she breathed. "He was not hit. He cannot have been hurt." She stumbled as she ran, collapsing on the ground. Her heart failed her, and words gasped from her throat as she garbled. "He can't. Not while I wasn't there."

"Please, milady. You must get up. He wasn't hurt, at least not physically. You must come with me. Now."

There was a family of beggars there. Lief had been his usual self; nobility sitting on his kind forehead. They had begged to stay where they were for one more night. Remember that Lief had already ordered a shelter to be erected near the palace, for many people are in that same situation. However, the shelter will not be finished until tomorrow. Remember also that many people are staying in the palace; we are brimming over with people in the same situation. Lief had considered their situation gravely. "Very well," he had said, "But tomorrow, you must move out. It is not safe here."

He looked at them, and saw how thin they were. There are many things that the citizens of Del endure, but unlimited charity is not one of them. Knowing that these people would be unlikely to happily receive gifts of food, he had sat down for lunch with them.

During the meal, their smallest child, Alimer, had clambered onto his lap. The two made fast friends. Her childlike comments and bell-like laughter seemed to lift a cloud from the King's face, one that nobody had even been aware of. Even when lunch was over, the King was loath to leave, giving the child piggybacks around the room, and dandling her on his knee. He asked the parents whether she could come and visit when they were settled in to a new home. Of course, they agreed, happy that their child may have the favour of the King.

Lief had gone through the other homes; inspected other ruins, with a happier expression on his face. When the last one was completed, he started back quickly. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't. The squad froze as they heard a crash. The King broke into a run.

It was Alimer's home that had collapsed. The neighbourhood was out of their homes, holding the family back, but the family was out; they were safe. Lief's taught body relaxed slightly. Then he saw one was missing. The King had rushed into the ruins, searching through until he had found her broken body; raven curls spilling around her head as blood spilled from it.

That was where the guards had found him; crouched beside the child, holding her little head in his hands. He wasn't crying. He was silent. He didn't move when the guards requested permission to go home; didn't object as one lifted him up to half carry him to the palace.

It wasn't until he had gotten onto the palace grounds that the King had truly gotten his feet back under him. Then his stride strengthened, became angry in desperation and grief.

That was when he had gone into the kitchen, and forbidden anyone to follow. The guards had hesitated; unsure of what to do. The youngest had suggested he be sent for help, but the others had told him not to; they must follow orders. Eventually, the young guard had ignored them and set out to find Jasmine; the one that Lief might just listen to; might regain some sense for.

Jasmine nodded, her eyes dark with worry.

The last corridor to the kitchen. It was dark; nothing like it should have been. Windows should have been open, or torches up on the walls. Instead, it was gloomy and forbidding.

Jasmine followed the young guard towards the others. They closed around uncertainly. "Don't you even think about it," she informed them flatly. "If he were in his right state of mind, he wouldn't have ordered you to stay out here."

They bowed their heads and stood aside. Jasmine all but ran to the door, flinging it open. Lief was slumped at the table, his back hunched. Jasmine went to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Lief," she said softly. She could feel him shaking. She pulled him around to face her, looking into his face. His eyes were bloodshot and tearing. They looked towards her without seeing her at all.

He wrapped his arms around her slight form. She threaded a gentle hand through his hair, "Lief, there was nothing you could do."

He shook his head violently, "I should have ordered them out! She was a child, a little child."

"You couldn't have known the building was going to collapse so soon," she said soothingly. Lief threw her away from him.

"I did! That was why we were telling them to move in the first place. I could have ordered them out, they could have stayed in the palace, I could have put the shelter up long ago! Why didn't I? I'm not mature enough for this. I can't handle it." Lief tossed back what he held in the cup.

Jasmine looked at it, her nostrils burning at the strength of the liquor. "I think you've had enough, Lief." She said, pulling the cup slightly.

"No!" he pulled back. "I don't want to think of it all. I can still see her little face."

"Fine," Jasmine said, shoving the drink back in his hand, "Drink yourself into a stupor. Take all the blame you can. Kill yourself while trying to forget, but it won't bring her back."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. Jasmine snorted impatiently and turned on her heel, storming out of the room. Lief stared after her, and looked back at the cup. It twinkled temptingly. Then a pair of green eyes appeared in his mind's eye, disappointed and angry. The cup dropped from his hand, spilling the last drops. He stumbled to his feet. Somehow, he made it to his room. Collapsing into the covers, he sought oblivion now in sleep.

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A/N: ahem... well. We were trying to write the Sum of Three Parts. Fluff doesn't really work on a sugar high. So... this came out. i know it's pretty crap, but it's a start... so. Be Nice. 


	2. Paying The Price

Sleep did nothing to relief the pain, for when sleep finally overtakes, the dreams set in soon after. For Lief, he was not lucky enough to experience pleasant dreams, but, instead, nightmares tormented his sleeping form. Waking with a start, the young king gripped his head with one hand, feeling as though it would tear apart in two. A migraine like this one, he had never felt before and never wished to ever have a repeat performance. _A physical pain to equal the mental,_ the bitter dryness of his mind interjected; a thought that made Lief grimace more out of remembrance of what drove him to this self induced agony in the first place than anything else. _So small, so fragile…_

Lief's head found the palms of his hands, as he sat upright in bed, not wanting to be any part of this torture. The ache through his mind was relentless, and was made to feel worse off by the fact that patches of his memory were lacking from the night before. It was the alcohol that he consumed, that he was sure, but every minute detail of what he had done and what he had said, was not so crystal clear. He knew, for some reason, that Jasmine had been present for at least some of his drunkenness, and the fear of how he had behaved towards her, plagued him. Only the thought of needing to set things right could have peeled him from his bedside, and was the reason for him standing in front of a full length mirror, surveying his appearance with disgust. A razor was in definite need, as well as a desperate need to adhere to personal hygiene practices. His disheveled look reminded him of how Barda had once appeared to him, not that long ago, in his beggar apparel. A wrench of grief flashed through him at the thought of beggars… _Alimer… _

No amount of alcohol could eradicate that memory for him… Nothing ever could.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, something which took more strength that he thought possible, Lief ran a hand through his black hair, and put his mind to the task of finding Jasmine. He needed something to do; something that he could focus on, or all would be lost.

Stepping out of his bedchamber, marveling dryly that he actually managed to find his correct chamber in his stupor last night, Lief blinked as the light caused his eyes to sting with pain. He had not realised how late it was, for his room had curtains that blocked out the sun. He would not have been surprised if he has slept the entire night and half the day through. He did not feel as though rest was granted to him for all the sleep he got. Lief felt as though, in his current state, nothing would ever allow him to be as he once was. Time heals all wounds, was a Del saying that he had often heard his mother speak, but time was an enemy to Lief now; an enemy with no weakness, relentless and unwavering.

Walking as best he could, Lief albeit stumbled down the staircase, trying to place Jasmine at this time of day. She would be outdoors, no doubt, for a quick glance out one of the large glass windows, told him that it was perfectly seasoned outside, sun streaming through the clouds as if the world knew nothing of his sadness and despair; weather to taunt him. He would try the garden first, the aviary next. After that, he was at a loss as to where she would be. _You do not know her at all,_ the bitter part of him taunted, not needing the alcohol to fuel the spark of negativity, and Lief had nothing to dispute back; nothing at all.

Stepping out into the garden of the palace had a surprisingly calming effect on the young king. He put the reasoning down to the fresh air, but even though he felt marginally better, he still could not forget the reason he was here. He needed to find Jasmine. He needed to make sure she was alright. He needed –

"Lief?" a voice called from somewhere to the left of him. Lief spun around, wishing for a microsecond that he did not spin so fast, as the motion caused his head to spike this pain. Reflexively, his eyes closed and his hand met his forehead, as if the act itself would cease the pain. Opening his still stinging eyes, Lief was met with green ones, for the figure had come closer to the young man, and was staring up at him; her eyes a mix of emotions that he couldn't quite place. He did not blame her for having turbulent feelings though. His own emotions quite possibly matched the collection of sentiments that were brimming within Jasmine.

"Jasmine," he croaked, finding his voice, used for the first time that day, to be uncooperative. He cleared it, and was about to try again, when he realised that he did not know what to say. His shame was so overwhelming it put a stopper on his vocabulary.

"It is a marvel you still remember my name," Jasmine said, the scorn well and truly present. "I assume you are paying the price for such reckless behaviour?"

Lief hung his head, an act to reflect just how humiliated he felt, but even that did not convey just how sorry he felt. Sorry for the way he behaved the night previous, sorry for causing worry for the people he loved, sorry for the loss of…

"I am sorry," he said, his voice breaking, as his body followed suit, dropping to his knees on the soft ground below. It was there that he stayed, unmoving, as his grief overcame him again; this time, raw and exposed. Jasmine looked down at his wrecked body, and knew then, that he was coping the best he could. It was not an ideal way to handle bad outcomes, but she was not uncaring enough to not give him the comfort he so badly needed. She knew that it was time to place her own feelings aside; for the time being, at least.

Dropping to her knees beside him, she pulled his shoulders around to face her. He complied without a struggle, his arms finding their way around her slight frame as easily as if she had always belonged there, and, in this position, the two of them held each other, both of them feeling things they weren't quite ready to speak about and both of them knowing that at some point, they would.

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Well… So… Yeah, I know. Five years is a super long time for an update. I promise you won't have to wait that long for the third chapter. ^_^ Truth be told, I had actually forgotten about this story, and was flicking through my old fanfiction dabbles when I re-read this one. I had written the first chapter with a good friend of mine, but this second chapter is just my own work. I'm not 100% sure where I'm going to do with this, but who knows, maybe I'll just do some more character development, and see where the wind takes me. Sorry about there not being much substance to this chapter. It wasn't meant to have any, really. The next one will have more dialogue and some actual discussion between Lief and Jasmine.

Until next we meet, much love, PurpleLight~


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